The Missing Link
by branthebroken
Summary: The story is about a young student of the Citadel who is interested in becoming a Archmaester.


**The Missing Link **

**Chapter 1 – Copper**

"Skinny Hound, Skinny Hound...

Why are you scared to hang around?"

"Skinny Hound, Skinny Hound...

Why are you scared to hang around?"

That's how kids in his neigbourhood teased him as he returned from his father's tavern. He would walk as though he never heard them. As he grew older, another verse was added.

" Skinny Hound , Skinny Hound...

Why did the walking Mountain burn the Hound?"

"What's that walking mountain?" his younger brother would ask him when they went to the Flea market in King's Landing. And he would start, "House Clegane has three black dogs running on a yellow field on its Sigil. They stand for the 3 Hounds which died saving Lord Tytos Lannister when he was attacked by a lioness. " Lord Tytos granted the hound-keeper a reach of land and made him its Lord. That forms the sigil of the House CLEGane.

"But we are not Cleganes why do call you that?" Pondered his younger brother .

" House Clegane has the elder, Gregor Clegane known as the walking mountain and the younger, Sandor Clegane known as the Hound."

" So they have another brother, eh ?" his brother would grow curious.

"No , Gregor has only a sister who died at a very young age. They are mocking my physique by calling me the skinny non-existent brother of Sandor and Gregor.", he would clarify.

"Why don't you hit back at them?" asked his brother.

" No, , I will never win over anyone in a physical fight. All my fights are up here. "The skinny Hound would say pointing at his temple. He would see the children of lords and noblemen learning to swing swords or point their lances. It was not a usual practice in Westerlands to let children of common men gel together with those of noblemen. His father worked at a tavern, and all his siblings, six of them, two elder to him Skylar and Mycroft and four younger, Myrah, Tymett, Mykar and Symonella either served ale or worked as scullions cleaning tankards and horns used for serving ale. He wanted to be a learned man.

He still remembered the night when Templeton, who was aspiring to become an Archmaester, asked Skylar who served ale, "What's the sigil of House Reyne of Castamere?", "Answer this correctly, and I'll buy ale for everybody here."

Templeton came from a wealthy family and he made sure everyone at the local tavern remembered that. The Skinny Hound, was dying to answer this question, but he remained silent for he didn't want to get beaten down by his brother Skylar later that evening.

Skylar thought as hard as he could but all he could do was stand still staring at his toes. That was when, at a most unexpected moment, Templeton turned around and saw the Skinny Hound, trying to act out a charade resembling a lion.

"Ah! You the Skinny Hound, that's how you are called, eh?"

"Yes, my lord", he would answer.

"So, you think their sigil is a lion, don't you?" Templeton would ask teasingly.

"I beg you to pardon my brother, mi-lord. He doesn't know that the lion represents the sigil of House Lannister." said Skylar and proceeded to usher his brother to leave the tavern.

"No Skylar, let's see what your brother has to say. Go on Skinny Hound. Let's see whether all the meat and mead that you eat has supported any growth in the little brain of yours." said Templeton.

The Skinny Hound looked at Skylar and Templeton with his cold blue eyes and started, "Contrary to common belief, the Lion doesn't represent House Lannister alone. The Lannister's lion is a roaring lion, golden in color, on a crimson background, whereas the lion of Castemere's Reynes is a red lion in a silver background. Even House Osfrey from the Reach has a lion, checquered green and gold on a white background."

"Bravo! Bravo!" exclaimed Lord Templeton and patted Skinny Hound on his back. "How do you know so many sigils, little one?" he couldn't resist knowing the secret.

"I accompany my father puts up a make-shift tavern whenever there's a tourney happening around, and I accompany him. That's where I would memorize and record the sigils of all houses which either hosted or participated in the Tourney." replied the skinny hound promptly.

Templeton didn't keep up his promise of buying ale for everyone else, but the Skinny Hound felt appreciated. Later that night, when he was cleaning the pots and tankards, Skylar gave him a blow on his head with a ladle. "You think you are too smart, eh! Skinny boy! I'm gonna thrash you around for your behaviour today."

"Skylar, I tried to tell you the answer! You wouldn't see, but he saw me. Who's fault was that?", the Skinny Hound replied in a terrified tone.

"And how many gold dragons, did you earn by all your knowledge about sigils? You dog! He never keeps up his word. If no one answered his question, he would keep buying ale for himself till dawn. When he leaves, he'd lecture us to spend time learning about the glory of great houses. Lords don't like us commoners to be smarter than what they are. Don't you know that's how I have been minting him?.

You spoiled all it, you dumb dog!". Skylar left the skinny hound to suffer silently in pain.

A couple of nights later, when everyone in the Tavern were sleeping peacefully, the Skinny hound approached Skylar who was sleeping after a tired day at work. He moved closer to Skylar and said, "This pains me brother, dear. Whatever was my fault I don't deserve to die in this stinking Tavern serving lesser mortals ale and mead. I believe misfits don't deserve a place in this house. Pardon me by brother, dear. I cost you a tip of a couple of bronze crowns. This won't happen again."

Skylar went to wake his brother only to find his brother's bed all made up. The Skinny hound was no longer seen around the tavern after that night. There was no sign of his departure from the tavern. It was as though his brother had vanished into thin air.

**Chapter 2 - Silver** –

"The Citadel is the alma mater of many maesters . Maester Luwin of Winterfell advising Ned Stark, Maester Cressen of Dragonstone, advising Stannis Baratheon, and even the GrandMaester Pycelle serving the entire realm at King's Landing and many others across the seven kingdoms" began ArchMaester Mollos as he addressed the young lot of acolytes gathered at Oldtown.

"I had asked you to pick a metal link of your choice since today's lecture is about the different metals on a Maester's neck. Each Maester has a chain forged together by metal links. Each link is of a different metal. Copper is for an expert in History, Gold for Economics, Silver for Medicine, Black Iron for Ravenry, Valyrian steel for...", he paused, "Pylos!, Pylos! Someone help him!" he shouted.

A thin blonde-haired Pylos was suffering from a seizure at a corner of the hall where the acolytes were standing listening to ArchMaester Mollos.

"Docents! Docents! Where the hell are you!" shouted ArchMaester Mollos and asked a tall blond student to get help. The tall guy walked to the entrance of the hall and looked around at the corridor. He finally spotted a skinny long-haired young man under the age of 25 carrying a stack of parchments across the hall.

"Hey! you blue-eyed dumb-wit! Get in here and shake the sleep off that stupid! " he cursed .

The Skinny hound entered the hall, bowed to ArchMaester Mollos, carefully placed the stack of parchments and went close to Pylos lying down and shaking from epileptic fits.

He tried to loosen the collar around Pylos' neck. It was a copper link he had around his neck. The Skinny Hound picked out a metal rod from his robe and started bending the copper link around Pylos' neck. As soon as unlocked the knot forming the metal-link-collar around his neck, the Skinny Hound carefully placed the metal rod into his robe. He tore a screen off the window, folded it into a cushion and placed the make-shift pillow beneath Pylos' head. He massaged Pylos' toes and shortly thereafter his body seemed reached a normal state.

ArchMaester Mollos came closer and examined the Skinny Hound. He looked deep into the cold-blue eyes and asked, "Who are you?"

"The Skinny Hound" someone chuckled from the crowd of boys. ArchMaester Mollos turned his head at a sharp angle, pointed his fore-finger at the boy in the second row.

"You, I didn't ask you. You may not speak out of your turn. The next time you do something of this sort, I'll expel you out of the Citadel back to your wine-Island, Arbor." The sting in his gaze was so sharp and penetrative and the class fell into a silence so deep that they could hear the raven flap its wings outside the hall.

"I am a novice here, Lord Maester". I serve these acolytes who attend to your classes, I help the other Maesters with maintaining their Raven-scrolls. I was moving these scrolls to the Scribe's Hearth for copying them into the official records."

"Not that skinny-boy! How did you know how to stop his epileptic fit? That's the one trade I could never learn. Medicine is not my strong forte. Had it not been for you, the boy would have died here."

"No Lord Maester, Pylos is prone to such seizures when it gets cold. He hasn't been taking the medicines prescribed to him. I'm sure he won't die in your hands."

"You still have not answered my question", remarked Lord Ebrose.

"i spent sometime looking into the books at the library. Pylos makes notes of his history lessons every evening. He wants to learn more than any man in the seven kingdoms and studies so hard to master History. Since he is so vulnerable to these seizures, I looked around for books on medicine and found that his epileptic fits can never be cured. The best Pylos can do is to be prepared for them to attack him anytime. Have I done anything wrong Lord Maester?"

"No skinny boy! You have earned yourself a chance to wear a Silver Link. For how long have you been here?" enquired ArchMaester Mollos.

"I come from the town of Fairmarket in the Riverlands, Lord Maester. My father owns a tankard and serves Ale to the commoners. I wanted to become a Maester myself. So I ran away from home, reached Oldtown and got in here as a novice helping people around here."

"Alrighty then! You can be my personal docent from now on! I'd like to have an extra sharp mind around me. You are to serve me from now on." confirmed ArchMaester Mollos. The Skinny Hound was so happy when he fell asleep that night.

**Chapter 3 Tin **

"Acolytes! Every great house has its own motto. "Hear me Roar" is for House Lannister, "Winter is Coming" speaks for Winterfell, "Family, Duty, Honour" portrays House Tully. You have a day to think about a similar motto the Citadel wants to set for itself." had announced ArchMaester Ebrose to the gathering of Novices and Acolytes the day before.

The skinny hound spent all day and night thinking of a motto. But there was no thought inspiring enough to make him scratch his quill on the parchment. He went to sleep with a dry papyrus scroll.

The next morning he went straight to ArchMaester Ebrose and expressed his incapability at not able to articulate anything for the latest assignment.

"Remember why we are here! "We are not men who fight and die in wars. We are not as noble as men who feed everyone. We are neither. Find out why." hinted Archmaester Ebrose.

When it was time for to turn in their papyrus scrolls, the Skinny Hound was the last to turn up. His scroll was all empty but for just two words.

"Valar Glaesis."

"Is that all you have to say? asked Archmaester Ebrose.

"Yes, ArchMaester. That's what we do. That's what we are. That's all I have to say. We are not knights who die for the glory filled in the songs sung by bards everywhere. They are born to die and bring about death to other men.

Peasants and farmers are people who toil in the fields so that no one goes hungry. They are people who serve the entire realm through their sweat and blood. Both these are evident in the formal words greeting use in the free cities like Braavos and Pentos where they say Valar Morghulis - followed by Valar Dohaeris.

The former representing death being caused and the latter representing the service brought about by men. We are different. We take care of men across the realms. We show them when summer starts and winter arrives so that people can collect their food grains. We send maesters to the seven kingdoms, and these maesters sit on councils and advise them on warfare for the knights and the agriculture for the peasants. We are the brains behind the kings, their knights and their peasants. We don't serve or bring about death. We ensure men live. We ensure that every man lives. Serving the realm is a duty, and dying for the realm is an inevitability. But a man must first live first to die or serve the realm.

All men must live; Valar Glaesis. This is the motto I suggest for the Citadel.", the skinny hound said and sat down.

The rest of the novices stood up and applauded the Skinny hound.

**Chapter 4 Iron **

It was another usual summer morning at the Citadel, when all the acolytes and novices were commanded to gather in the great hall. Archmaester Ebrose introduced their guest for the week, an old man who had sparse hair running across his bald spotted head.

"Novices, we have here Grand Maester Pycelle to test you on the subject of Warcraft. Most of you have had your chains barely ready with links of Silver and Copper indicating that you can heal wounds, cure illnesses and also have a sharp mind recording every moment as it passes so that the History of the realm is maintained well intact. The next link in your chain can be an Iron link provided you can answer Grand Maester Pycelle's questions."

"Novices and aco-colytes, I've served four ki-kings so fa-far in the realm, and be-believe me when i say, they-there has been no ki-king who wa-wants peace. All of them root for mo-more whe-weapons and are hey-heyll bent on co-conquering. Hence wa-warcraft re-remains an in-interesting ski-skill to be maa-maastered." The old man moved slowly around and addressed the crowd in a stammering accent.

Every acolyte was questioned individually for a few minutes. Then came Skinny Hound's turn.

"Oh! you aah-already have a caw-copper and a see-silver link in your po-possession!. Te-tell me. A fffew days ba-back a so-soldier of the la-lannister army cay-came to me with an in-insect bite. His fo-fore arm had got-gotten swe-swelled up du-due to a bla-blood clot. Ho-how woo-wood you tree-treat him?" completed GrandMaester Pycelle with a lot of difficulty.

"GrandMaester, but he was supposed to be questioned on Warcraft." added Archmaester Mollos.

"I can answer." came a meek voice from the blue-eyed Skinny Hound. "I would bring about a couple of leeches and have them feed on the clot on the fore-arm. Leeches are effective at improving blood circulation and breaking up blood clots. This usually works well in Riverlands, where there are a lot of leeches." answered the Skinny Hound.

"We-well said. Now if I were to ad-advise king Ro-Robert Bar-Baratheon on his next war against the Ta-Targaryens, what should I recommend him as a pro-proper weapon against the drag-dragons?" came out the next question taking its own sweet time out of Grand Maester Pycelle's mouth.

"GrandMaester, the Targaryens don't exist anymore. They were wiped off the realm during Robert's Rebellion, and secondly the last known dragons looked shorter, more like mongrels, than what their ancestors looked like. So neither you nor King Robert will have to worry about the dragons. " the Skinny hound's reply took everyone by surprise.

"Do-don't get ah-ahead of yo-yourself, bo-boy! Im-imagine the pro-problem." cautioned the Grand Maester.

'Well in that case, I'd be prepared with this plan. I'll ensure my army has trebuchets fuelled with huge boulders large enough to smash the heads of dragons. At the battlefield, these trebuchets will launch projectiles of boulders aiming at the heads of dragons." the Skinny Hound tried to support his argument.

"dddoyou think dra-dragons are si-sitting du-ducks? They mo-move fa-faster than the fa-fastest of ar-arrows and aa-aare he-heavier than the tre-trebuchets you-you'd try to build. Yo-your wey-weapon mu-must have ssp-speed as well as more mo-momentum."

"But GrandMaester, I don't think such a weapon exists in the seven kingdoms. The weapon you suggest was last used to shoot down Rhaenys Targaryen's dragon Meraxes when the Targaryens took on Dorne. A bolt was used to pierce the eyes of Meraxes pushing Rhaeneys who fell from a great height into her death. The same scorpion was destroyed by the Targaryen forces when they conquered Dorne. No one who's alive has ever seen a Ballista" argued the Skinny Hound.

"Aaa-Archmaester Ebrose, ho-how many li-links has this aa-acolyte earned so far?" enquired Grand Maester Pycelle .

"Well he has a Copper for History, a Silver for Healing, herblore and medicine and a Tin for the languages. if you can approve, we can award an iron link today, GrandMaester." replied Archmaester Ebrose.

"Let hi-him work mo-more on his waa-warcraft. I'll give my nnnod the next time I see him." said Grand Maester Pycelle.

**Chapter 5 Lead **

That day was not far. The Skinny hound got word that GrandMaester Pycelle was to visit the Citadel in a fortnight's time. He worked day and night, took no help from any other novice and got ready for his audience with the GrandMaester Pycelle.

"Yes, you may present your findings to GrandMaester Pycelle.", came the nod from Archmaester Ebrose.

"Greetings, GrandMaester! I've worked on a wide range of topics since we met the last time. Of all those findings, I present to you my Magnum Opus. An Anti-dote to the Long Farewell, the most dangerous poison across all seven kingdoms. The Long Farewell, having its origins in Asshai works its way into the victim's blood stream so subtly and leaves no traces on the victim's skin. Mixing certain herbs and potions can help anyone custom-define the time taken for the poison to start affecting the victim. I've prepared an antidote to save any person whose bloodstream has been infected with the LongFarewell", said the SkinnyHound.

"Well, it must be a truly remarkable find then. What components have you added to your antidote?" enquired Archmaester Ebrose.

"I made a combination of Manticore venom, bile from the liver of the strongest of Aurochs in the seven kingdoms, herbs from across the wall, a few secret potions obtained from the several tribes who live with the wildlings and prepared this concoction." said the skinny hound with a hint of pride in his tone.

"And ho-how do we believe this thi-this con-concoction will wo-work?" enquired Grand Maester Pycelle with his hands trembling in surprise and shock.

"I can demonstrate it, GrandMaester." said and brought forth a stretcher containing shrouded object. When he unveiled the shroud, the people around were shocked to find a young man with blood leaking from his nose.

"What have you done, novice?" shouted ArchMaester Ebrose.

"This is a scullion working here in the Citadel. I brought him in for the demonstration" reasoned the Skinny Hound.

"yo-you mu-must be jo-joking" said GrandMaester Pycelle in disbelief.

"Hurry up, hurry up.. administer the antidote without delay." shouted Archmaester Ebrose.

"Don't panic masters. There is time for the poison to get worse. I'll add the antidote immediately, Archmaester." said the Skinny Hound and poured down the antidote down the throat of the young man on the floor.

But contrary to the Skinny Hound's belief, the young man continued to bleed, went into an epileptic fit and finally collapsed into a lifeless state.

"thi-this is ma-madness novice." screamed GrandMaester Pycelle.

"Maesters, sometimes mistakes can happen in mistakes. This was unexpected. My antidote can never be wrong. I can make am..." the skinny hound tried to convince. But before he could finish, he was chained and put under confinement. He waited for a couple of days in the dark for the elders to come to him.

He was finally brought before the large hall where all elders were seated.

"You have been charged with necrophilia and having less respect for the dead. Do you have anything to say in your defence, novice?" enquired Archmaester Mollos.

" Sometimes when we try to usher in new methods pertaining to Science, some experiments must be made. I have done 100s of them when I've been here in the Citadel. 99 of them have been successful. I've failed only once. It is a mistake I agree. But necrophilia is a word too strong for this small error of mine. "concluded the skinny hound.

"The ma-magnitude of the error is not sm-small novice. You have pl-played with the li-life of a fe-fellow human, and that is in-incorr-corrigible. I re-recom-commend the cit-citadel to st-strip of your ch-chain and ek-expel you from the Cit-citadel. Do you ha-have a na-name novice?"

"Qyburn, it is Qyburn, GrandMaester."

"Qyburn, an odd name for an odd man. Archmaester Ebrose, you may expel this novice of yours and banish him to the jungles." concluded the GrandMaester Pycelle.

"To which house do you belong, Qyburn", inquired Archmaester Ebrose.

"I'm a novice of the Citadel, Archmaester. I don't swear fealty to any great house." replied Qyburn with pride.

"Qyburn, you are hereby stripped of your chains, all of them, Copper, Silver, Tin, Pale steel, Brass, Black Iron, Electrum, Gold, Pewter, Platinum, Red Gold, Steel and Iron. You shall not claim yourself as an acolyte or a Maester from Citadel. If we get any reports suggesting you did so, you'll be banished behind the wall into the land of the wildlings. You may leave the Citadel before dusk and return to your home." said Archmaester Ebrose in a life-less tone.

That evening, Qyburn stood at the banks of a nearby river pondering what to do next. He was still in his cloak, signifying that he belonged to the Citadel. He was without his chain. He had gained four links, and had almost gained another, a one in Lead meaning that he has mastered the science behind every poison in the realm. He was no one now. He closed his eyes and listened to the sound of the river flowing around him. He could hear a voice calling out.

'Help! Help! I am bit by a snake!" It was an old man's voice. Qyburn, the skinny hound ran in the direction of the voice to find an old man clutching his arm.

"Don't worry, I can save you, I'm a master of the Citadel." He thought for a moment about being expelled. "Don't panic. I can save you. Just lie down." and ran down the river bank to gather a certain herb he could find.

They could have snatched the bronze link and the other links in his chain. But they couldn't snatch the spirit of the Maester from his senses. He swore an oath to claim with pride his name from then on. He didn't find it shameful to have been expelled from the Citadel. He had found an antidote for the most dangerous poison across the realm. The only person to do so was he. He was Qyburn, the man who almost got all his links sewn together.


End file.
